


A Flower for Your Flower

by Thorny



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (vaguely referenced), Bondage, Cults, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consentacles, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsters, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Sex Pollen, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Vaginal Sex, Vines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19278400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorny/pseuds/Thorny
Summary: A young herbalist-in-training accidentally becomes a sacrifice for her own cult.  Fortunately, she enjoys her Lord's attentions...---Takes place in the same universe as my seriesWitcher Boys in Peril.





	A Flower for Your Flower

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift-fic to an het RL friend of mine who has let me rant and rave about the plethora of gay porn I have written/done in the past without complaint. 
> 
> He is an absolute _saint_ for putting up with me. 
> 
> I also apologize for using an OFC instead of one of the Witcher ladies as I couldn't fathom any of them letting an Ancient Leshen get handsy without there being a lot of concessions to believability. (And lets just say I'm less comfortable doing a full on rapey fic with women, personally...)

Sumac Grove was a tiny village on the edge of the territory known as Velen. It butted up against a massive unmapped forest that most sane individuals wouldn’t dare enter for fear of what went bump in the night where civilization ended. However, one of those bumps in the night had adopted the village and its humble peasant inhabitants as its own; asking only a paltry tithe for granting protection and prosperity that the villagers gladly paid.

Kyriah was the middle daughter of three to the village ealdorman. She was of average attractiveness as far as young peasant girls go with soft brown eyes and curly brown hair. A few men from nearby villages had tried to charm her hand after her older sister was married off, but both she and the ealdorman turned them away one after the other.

After all, she deeply loved another.

The first time Kyriah had ever laid eyes on the Lord of the Forest, she had been sent into the woods by the old herbalist to whom she was apprenticed to gather a specific and rare fungus. Of course, this unique mushroom only grew within the confines of the loose stone circle and raised dais where she knew her father placed the sacrifices to their great protector and provider.  
Before this moment, she had always been warned not to cross the circle. Swallowing her fear and tucking up her skirt, she took a tentative step past the stones. When nothing immediately struck her down, Kyriah approached the dais and knelt to pluck the blue mushroom from near the stone base. The brown-haired woman smiled ruefully as she tucked the fungus into her belt pouch, admonishing herself for acting like a scared little girl. As she turned to leave, a shadow fell across her form and she froze.  
She had been _terrified._ It struck a horrific visage with its huge antlers, bleached animal skull with sightless hollow eye sockets, and tall looming height that no human could hope to match.  
The leshen had slowly bent to meet her petrified brown gaze, lifted a talon-tipped branch-like limb, and produced a beautiful, tiny fuchsia flower from its palm. Mesmerized by the sight, Kyriah hadn’t realized she moved until she had reached out and touched the little flower’s tiny, delicate petals. A gentle puff of blue pollen dusted her fingertips.  
“M-my lord… its beautiful,” she whispered, afraid to break the odd silence that had fallen over the forest. The leshen tilted its massive antlered skull at her before it plucked the flower from its palm and tucked it behind her ear.  
“Oh! I - ” She froze, unsure. This close, she could smell the waning sweet scent of the plucked flower in her hair. It made her feel a little light-headed. The Lord of the Forest creaked softly from its unseen mouth and gently pinched a lock of her hair between two talons. She smiled tentatively.  
Kyriah knew what type of sacrifices the leshen preferred. She had seen the men of the village carting off unlucky (though she was quickly revising that thought as she stood in the creature’s presence) victims to the woods for those victims to stumble back out sometimes days later with no recollection of what had transpired. Perhaps she was to be next.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

The brown haired woman felt her head getting fuzzier as more of those tiny fuchsia flowers bloomed all along the leshen’s upper limbs, releasing their little puffs of blue pollen as the grove filled with that sweet scent. Kyriah sighed softly, vaguely registering the feel of something slithering and curling around her ankles and calves, but she didn’t dare break eye contact with those empty sockets. In fact, she felt emboldened and reached up to stroke her fingertips along the smooth bare bone of its skull.  
The leshen made an odd sound and pressed into her touch. Kyriah’s smile widened and she leaned closer, pressing her lips where her fingertips had been.  
“My lord,” she murmured reverently, hands growing bold as she cupped the creature’s jawbone. Something dark and wet with slime brushed against her hand from underneath the skull and she shivered from the effects of both the pollen and Kyriah’s own curious desire. The leshen seemed to notice its effect on her.

There was no fear as Kyriah felt herself being lifted off the ground and cradled into the hold of thick roots and thin, wandering vines. The leshen held her gaze with unseeing hollow sockets as it silently commanded some vines to work the clasps and ties to her bodice and blouse, drawing a soft moan from the brown haired woman as more vines slipped inside her clothes to teasingly brush against smooth skin. She bit her lip as her clothing loosened and the roots carefully pulled and tugged until the cool air of the forest kissed her bare skin. Vines quickly slithered up to slide and rub against her exposed modest breasts, down her sides, up her shoulders, everywhere they could reach. She arched and gasped, blushing under the leshen’s scrutiny while her arms were gently drawn away from its skull. As they were pinned above her head with a thick root wound around her wrists, Kyriah still felt safe. Wanted. Loved.  
The leshen silently commanded its living bindings to continue. Some dipped past the hem of her skirt to tease at her hips. More took the opposite path, crawling up her bound legs to teasingly rub and twist and writhe against flesh untouched by any man. Kyriah gasped, her blush deepening as her body warmed from all the attentions.  
“Aah - mn, p-please,” she begged, wanting more of the leshen’s attentions. It obliged, commanding its vines to wrap around her chest, gently squeezing her breasts while thinner vines slithered across her hardening nipples. Kyriah’s breath hitched, eyelids fluttering as the plants teased and massaged. She could feel her increasing internal warmth conflicting with the cool evening breeze; a delightful contrast as the vines covered and uncovered various patches of heated skin.  
The leshen let out another creak, lifting its hand to command some of the vines to finally relieve the woman of her skirt and underclothes with deliberately slow movements. It took Kyriah a moment to realize the rest of her coverings were sliding down her thighs, but she could only bite her lip and watch with anticipation. She could feel her body’s warmth curling lower in her belly as she caught the leshen observing her reaction. Kyriah flicked her gaze down as she felt the vines and roots shift, watching the last of her clothes drop to the forest floor.  
The roots around her legs shifted and separated, laying her womanhood bare to the leshen’s hollow gaze. Kyriah flushed as the creature tenderly stroked her naked thigh with careful talons. The heat coiling within her spread as a thin vine slid up the opposite lower limb and brushed against her core with a slow, deliberate stroke. The leshen let out an approving creak as the woman gasped and arched, commanding the vine to repeat the motion. Kyriah moaned.  
“Please! Please, my lord, I - ” She cut herself off with a louder moan as the vine undulated and rubbed more firmly against her folds. The leshen loomed over her and hissed softly, its black too-long tongue slipping out to swipe along its skull’s jaw. The sight set the woman’s coiling heat ablaze as she arched hard against the living bindings, achieving her first orgasm with a choked, shocked noise.  
Kyriah wasn’t given long to process the aftershocks of pleasure as the vines slithering over her still heated skin began anew; rubbing against her pebbled nipples and squeezing her breasts, sliding up her stomach and down her back. She vaguely registered the vine teasing her core was moving more fluidly to tease her back to that precipice, blushing darkly when she realized it was her own essence.  
A thin vine wandered up her throat and slid along her bottom lip, questioningly. Kyriah dazedly parted her lips, not truly understanding what it wanted until it slipped inside and teased against her tongue. She moaned, tentatively licking the vine in return. The leshen creaked approvingly.

Kyriah had no idea how long the Lord of the Forest kept her captive, bringing her to a slow, burning orgasm again and again with its slithering, wriggling plants. She was practically dripping her essence freely to the forest floor with each additional shuddering break and release of the coiling heat deep in her stomach.  
Finally, the leshen silently commanded the vine coated in her juices to cease rubbing and undulating against her folds. Kyriah moaned around the vine in her mouth in protest, hips rolling up to try and bring the pleasurable touch back. The leshen creaked, petting her trembling thigh comfortingly. It lifted its unoccupied hand to give a new silent command. The pleasure-drunk woman was gently rearranged by the restraining roots to be forced to see down her own body, her curly locks sticking to her sweat-slicked forehead in this new position. The vine in her mouth slipped out with a wet pop. As her hazy vision focused, she watched the essence-soaked vine return to press its tip to her entrance. She sucked in a breath, helpless and eyes wide as the vine wriggled and rubbed its way inside her.  
“Haah! Oh, please, what - ” she incoherently babbled as she felt the vine slide its way in, careful to allow her to adjust to each inch of plant moving inside her. A second vine, the one slicked with her saliva, slithered down to tease her core as she was filled. The woman moaned and jerked in surprise, clenching down on the vine inside her as another orgasm rocked her system.  
Her eyes rolled back. Her head fell slack against the net of roots. Her body shuddered and shivered uncontrollably. The leshen mercilessly continued to have its vines rub and squeeze and slide and slowly thrust until she came again, moaning and gasping. This time, another vine wriggled inside her beside the first, twining together and thrusting as one. Kyriah moaned brokenly, quaking as the thicker intrusion rubbed against everything deliciously on each deep thrust. She couldn’t help but writhe and arch against her restraints as she was driven to another countless orgasm with a hoarse shout.

The ancient leshen tilted its antlered skull as the woman collapsed in exhaustion, slipping into unconsciousness. It creaked softly, commanding its vines to slow and eventually come to a halt and remove themselves from her body delicately. As it was lowering Kyriah to the forest floor, she jolted awake with a weak moan and grasped at the leshen’s limb with a shaky hand.  
“M-my lord… please…” She pressed her lips to its rough bark, “I want - I want to… remember.”  
The leshen hissed softly, stroking its talons through her mussed curls tenderly as she fell back to unconsciousness; whether from her own exhaustion or the leshen’s doing, she didn’t know.

Kyriah slowly awoke in daylight on a cot in the home of the old herbalist. She was still naked as the day she was born underneath the scratchy blanket, though her clothes were neatly folded on the small table beside the cot. The night’s previous passions slowly came back to her and she blushed, wondering if it had all been a dream. A stray hand thoughtfully tugged at curl of her hair and she startled as something fell to the bed.

A small, wilted fuchsia flower peeked up at her from where it fell on the blanket. She felt a warmth bloom in her chest as she smiled.

She returned the very next night to the Lord of the Forest’s grove.

And the night after that...


End file.
